


This Will Probably Kill Us

by wrote_and_writ



Series: Random Fandom Twelve Days of Stories: Nice Series [7]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrote_and_writ/pseuds/wrote_and_writ
Summary: Day 7 of 12 Days of FicMas Garbage or whatever, Nice EditionThis is based off a real drinking game. My friends tried it when they were about 22. They lived. They are pretty certain it would kill them now.





	This Will Probably Kill Us

Grantaire set up a row of shot glasses and two bottles of tequila on the coffee table.

Enjolras looked up from his book and pushed his hair out of his face. “What’s all this?”

“Finals are over, E. Spring term doesn’t start for three weeks. You are taking a break.”

“Oh good. Because it looked like you were going to get me drunk,” he drawled and turned back to his book.

Grantaire snatched the book from his hand and tossed it across the room. 

“What the fuck, R? I was reading that!” He hopped off the sofa and retrieved the book, carefully smoothing back the bent pages. 

“School’s out, E! No homework until at least the tenth of January!”

“This isn’t homework. This is fun!”

“What’s it called?”

Enjolras mumbled something, but Grantaire made out the words “sociopolitical” and “hegemony” and scoffed. 

“You are a fucking dork, Enjolras. And you are done reading tonight. By the time we’re done, you’ll have a hard time remembering your own name.”

Enjolras swallowed. “What do you have planned, Grantaire?”

Grantaire stood up from the cabinet he had been digging through with a cry of triumph. “This!”

“The Lord of the Rings extended editi— no! No no no no! We are not playing that infernal drinking game Marius found. You nearly died the last time you played!”

“I didn’t prepare well enough,” Grantaire replied, taking the first disc from the case. “This time I’m ready.”

“Well I’m not!”

“My love, I’ll take care of you,” Grantaire said. “Now, pour us a shot while I look up the rules.”

“Grantaire—“

Grantaire moved to stand beside Enjolras. He took the book, gently this time, and set it on the floor. Then he kissed Enjolras. 

“I can think of another way to help you relax,” he said. 

Enjolras sighed. “I’ll pour the shots.”

“Okay, that hurts a little. Not gonna lie.” Grantaire smiled nonetheless. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t feel like moving much.”

“I’ve told you, it’s a technique!” Grantaire huffed. “It has been very well received. Never mind. We’ll do that later. Pour the shots.”

Enjolras poured four shots each. Grantaire topped them off and sat on the floor beside him. They made themselves comfortable. 

“Okay,” Grantaire said, reading from his phone, “we’re not doing the full version. No chugging every time Legolas peers into the distance with his elf-eyes.”

“Thank god for small miracles.”

“Shush. Okay. Take a shot every time: Frodo’s got an O face, close up of the ring, panoramic scenery, intimate moment between Sam and Frodo, any time Frodo wanders off and any time the entire Fellowship is on screen.”

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die.”

“Probably.” He held out a shot to Enjolras and raised a toast. “Hail the victorious dead!”

“Hail,” Enjolras said miserably and tossed back the shot. 

Twenty minutes in, Enjolras’s vision swam. “I changed my mind,” he said, only stumbling on his words twice, “let’s have sex.”

“An intoxicated person cannot give full consent,” Grantaire replied with a devilish grin. “Isn’t that what you always tell me when you don’t wanna fuck? Now shut up and watch the movie.”

Enjolras woke sometime later, laying atop Grantaire’s snoring form. He rested in Grantaire’s arms, head on his chest, a rather large spot of saliva just beneath his cheek. He turned his head in time to see Aragorn burst through the chamber doors at Helm’s Deep, looking like Sex on Legs, although he could never let Grantaire know. 

“Lie still,” Grantaire murmured. “I’m sleeping.”

Enjolras lowered himself gingerly to the floor and tucked up between Grantaire and the sofa. Grantaire nuzzled his cheek. 

“My preciousssss,” he whispered. 

“Fuck you,” Enjolras replied. He kissed his cheek and fell asleep.


End file.
